


It's only December 23rd

by tardisswimmingpool



Category: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, M/M, holiday fanfiction, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisswimmingpool/pseuds/tardisswimmingpool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a one-shot to celebrate December 1st. Holiday Fanfiction time baby!</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's only December 23rd

"Daddy! Daddy!" A pair of small hands is clasped onto my shoulder, and I can feel them shaking me with the breath of a small child blowing hot on my neck.

"Whaaa?" I am yawning and not fully awake, but I can see the blurred image of my four-year-old son on top of me, and he has a giant grin on his face.

"Daddy! Daddy! Santa!"

I rub at my eyes and glance over at the clock on my bedside table only to discover that it was merely 3:30 in the morning…not to mention it was December 23.

"Cameron?" I push him to the side so I can sit up. "Honey, it’s only the 23rd. Santa doesn’t come till tomorrow night."

"But, but…I saw him in the living room! Come on!" He pulls my arm so hard that I think he might pull it right out of its socket.

"Alright, alright," I smile at him, "Just let me put on a robe."

"No time! What if he leaves! Come on! Come on!"

I sigh and follow him (in my underwear, may I add) to pay a visit to the so-called-Santa in the living room. At first I thought it was silly, but, given the hour, I’m a little worried, so I grab the nearest thing I could find (a Christmas statue) and hide it behind my back.

"Santa!" We reach the living room to find, sure enough, a man dressed in a bright red suit, standing next to our Christmas tree with a present in his hands.

"Ho, ho, ho" I recognize the pitiful excuse for a Santa Clause laugh anywhere.

"Greg?!"

"Hello, sweetheart."

"Dad!" Cameron runs up to hug him, and I’m not far behind. I drop the Christmas statue on the couch, and rush over to the two of them.

Greg has been gone on an assignment for a few weeks (special case, may I add). We weren’t sure if he was going to be back in time for Christmas, and I almost gave up. But my husband would never skip out on a family occasion. Who knows what he did to come home early, and I don’t really care.

"Well?" He smirks at me, "Don’t I deserve a welcome-home hug?"

"I think you deserve more than that," I press my lips to his, much to the disgust and laughter of my four-year-old, "Merry Christmas Santa."

"Merry Christmas."


End file.
